


The Taste of a White Knight

by gigi2690



Category: Lost Girl, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi2690/pseuds/gigi2690
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Bo before she met Kenzi, always on the run. And one night she runs into Emma, a gorgeous blonde bounty hunter with a devil may care smirk and sad eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of a White Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not copy or duplicate on other sites or mediums without my consent.

A flash of movement and a pale gold halo of hair catch your attention. She parts the throng of shifting, grinding bodies with ease. They stop dancing to trail their eyes down long lean legs that glow brighter than a snow capped mountain under the harsh neon lights, but they back away from hard searching eyes and a body that backs up the boast in her gaze. 

Your mouth waters as you take in toned arms and strong shoulders-not a girl you’d break easily-bared by the sinful red number she’s poured into for the evening. She looks comfortable on her heels, but she’s restless

-pivoting from one foot to another, calves clenching and unclenching under your voracious attention-

 You know her type… you are her type; those heels are more weapon than fashion accessory.

You waver slightly from your hiding place in the shadows; you’re so hungry, and the crowd’s arousal has only grown since the blonde beauty strolled in. You hang back though, acutely aware of the look in her eyes. She’s on the hunt. Funny. So are you.

She circles the edge of the club, taking in the anonymous debauchery of the dancers with a small devil may care smirk. When the woman nears you, you give in to temptation, slinking forward just enough so that your face remained half shadowed, cutting an intimate line from cheekbone to breast. The gasp was lost to pulsing techno music, but the sudden spike in arousal burns brightly around her like a beacon, lighting her from the inside out. You grin, just barely reigning in your predatory nature as you watch the fabric of her dress stretch to accommodate deeper breaths.

She shakes her head, running her hand through her curled locks as she pulls herself from your hold. She gives you a wink before she continues on her way. You pout. You hadn’t intended to feed off of her, but there is just something about her. And the way she burned. 

You watch her narrow in on a large twenty-something goth wannabe, the kind that claims to live for all things strange and unnatural but who’d wet his pants after spending two minutes with you. He also has a nasty habit of slipping things into girls’ drinks, which means he’s yours tonight. Only, why is she looking for him? They don’t know each other, you can tell by how thick the blonde lays on the charm, by the twinkle in the perv’s eye. Goldilocks is quite the seductress-although the dress and one bat of those long lashes would’ve done the trick-and you watch in annoyance as she leads him from the club by the hand.

You follow silently behind them. You tell yourself you’re looking out for her, even though you didn’t see her drink anything that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have other tricks. Although truthfully you’re more than a little curious. He might be burning hot, but you can feel the utter lack of sexual energy from her, whatever she wants with him he’s in for a surprise. There’s yelling and you’re darting around the corner without thought.

He tosses a drink at the blonde and it misses her dress, splashing alluringly across her cleavage instead. You fight down another wave of hunger as you watch her grin and clock the guy with her left. He tries to throw a punch, but he’s already drunk from his time in the club. She’s bringing him down on her leg, dropping him wheezing onto the sidewalk a moment later. She adjusts the hem of her dress, pulling it down from where it had ridden tantalizingly high, revealing a hint of lace. She turns and you watch the man suddenly reach out for her ankle,

“LOOK OUT!” Her eyes dart wide and alarmed to yours before shooting down in time to stomp on the incoming hand. She kicks him with the front of her shoe, and his head falls passively to the side. You watch her gaze dart frantically between the unconscious man at her feet and you, her mouth is opening and shutting pointlessly and the whole sight is absurdly adorable given you’d just watched her drop kick a guy twice her size. You chuckle and your grin only widens as you watch her arousal spike in reaction.

She finally manages to find her voice,

“I’m a bounty hunter!” she pauses as you slowly approach, she burns a little brighter with every step you take, “He skipped out and I’m bringing him back for trial.” She breaks eye contact after a long moment- you commend her silently for that strength, you are a monster and part of you hopes she can resist you-and turns to pull the man up. She drags him a few feet until she reaches a small beat up yellow Volkswagen. You’re following a few steps behind. You don’t want to spook her, you can sense them….big towering walls with a 24 hour guard lying in wait for the next threat.

 And you are a threat, but like all predators, you have your tricks. You let your fingertips drift across her arm. You send out the smallest of pulses; from the heat of her aura it won’t take much,

 “Do you have to take him away now?” You linger as you trace the defined lines of her biceps, such soft, snow-white skin, “Can’t you put him in the trunk and come back inside? I was watching you,” one more pulse, “of course I was, everyone was watching you,” you growl out the words and she bites down on her bottom lip, hard, “What do you say to a dance?” And she’s yours.

 She dumps him in the trunk and slams the lid, leaning against the hatch and taking in a few good deep breaths. You allow her the time to collect herself, tracing the lines of muscle visible through her dress, wishing you had more time, privacy. But you want to leave this one alive. And that means one hell of a tightrope walk.

 You won’t get a full feed, she took away that meal, but you will have a taste. You suspect she’ll taste divine. 

She turns around and gives you a smirk that tightens that coil of need deep in your gut. She’s taking you in and you stand still under her appraisal, you know you’ll meet her approval. You may be a monster, but you’ve got the best sheep’s clothing around. Finally she holds out her hand and uses yours to pull you close; She smells like vanilla and spilled tequila, “Somehow I have a feeling we won’t be doing much dancing.” Her voice is sex, and you would know. You take a deep breath through your nose. You just went from hungry to ravenous.

You quirk a brow, amused and a little impressed, you trail your palm across her cheek, paying her back with a taste of the fire she’s awakening in you. And my she has a beautiful burn, “Oh, we’ll start with a dance.”

~~

Oh you do dance for a short while. But between the possessive and not too idle hands, the hot centre grinding against your rear and the mouth feasting at the back of your neck, you need to move this along or you’ll be sucking the chi out of the blonde here on the dance floor. You pull her along by the hand, leading her back into the shadows. Your turf. As if she senses this, she gets slightly shy and you allow another pulse of heat through your linked fingers. She shoves you up against the wall, going in for a kiss and you allow yourself your first taste.

She tastes like hot cocoa on a winter night and lazy Saturdays reclining in the sun. It’s invigorating and it unravels you from the inside out. You were right; she tastes divine. You reverse your positions with ease, pushing her up hard against chipped paint until she has no choice but to wrap her legs around your waist. You go in for another taste as she weaves her fingers through your hair and pulls you against her. Your scalp protests and the groan that leaves you is low and wanting. 

Ever so wanting. It’s clawing from the inside out, begging to be let free… such a delicacy waiting and aching to be devoured. You growl and your mouth goes to her neck, biting down roughly. She keens against you, arching up into you. You lick your way down the line of her collar bone, chasing the lingering tequila by dipping your tongue into her cleavage and tasting the salt of sweat that had gathered there. You palm both breasts, running your nails back and forth across the hardening peaks. Your mouth seeks out her pulse point, sucking hard and encouraging the blood to move through her veins at your command.

You shudder as you feel her arousal wet against your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. She’s rolling up and down, grinding herself down on your abs, seeking more friction, and you grin, content to watch the way her body moves against you, dress up around her hips. Nails dig deep and slow into your back and you moan and arch against the woman. You look up to meet fathomless green. You’d call it a glare if she weren’t so out of breath. You chuckle and slip your hand up her inner thigh. Your other hand hold firm to her hip, halting her thrusting. You pull thin lace to the side and let your middle finger tease along her entrance. She bucks into you, and you carve your nails down thigh in punishment. You grin up at her and shake your head. She stills. 

She’s deliciously tight as you thrust two fingers in abruptly, she is more than ready for you. In fact you move to add a third as you finally allow her to move against you once more. Only this time you do far more than watch. You’re pushing in deep, seeking out every inch of skin you can taste, bite, _claim_ , resisting the desire to feed more.

She can’t be quiet now. The moans escape her throat and she whimpers each time you curl against g-spot while hitting your palm against that engorged buddle of nerves. You don’t hear them-the sounds are lost to the bass of the speakers some ten feet behind you-but you feel each shaky exhale against your sweat slicked skin, you can feel the spasming of her chest as she bucks against your fingers.

You’re pretty sure your eyes are glowing blue by now, but her eyes are blissfully screwed shut. It takes you a moment to note the hand undoing the button of your dark leather pants. The first button yields to her and she cups you as you trace circles over her clit with your thumb. You’re tempted to allow it. To give in to the questing fingers promising pleasure.

You feel a wavering in her muscles and her face, pale and cold in your bed, flashes through your head. You grab the hand. She growls but is too far gone to put up a fuss. There is a reason you don’t get to let go. There’s something deadly you have to hold in. And this lovely blonde with chi that tastes of sunlight is far too great of a temptation. You drive into her with renewed desperation. She’s biting down on her bottom lip, holding back what you know to be a scream. You can see it- burning brighter and hotter until you’re surprised you’re not singed on contact. You wait until she’s tightening around your fingers before you pull her in for one last taste.

The thud of the speakers roars with her chi in your veins. Her chi tastes of surrender, of ecstasy (of what you wouldn’t realize until years later to be magic). You swallow her scream along with her chi, taking it all in, and sending one large pulse through her, smirking against her lips as she spirals into an even greater orgasm. You hold her until she begins to shake, lingering to lick the drop of blood slipping from where she bit in too deep.

 She dazedly opens her eyes and grins down at you. Her arms are wound around your shoulders, her legs still tight around your waist. You lower her slowly to the ground, very much aware that she may not be able to stand just yet. She leans heavily against the wall as she regards you. She seems younger, less burdened. Pleasure is swirling brightly in her eyes, having blessedly drowned the melancholy you’d earlier seen swimming intimately with jade green if but for a moment. The sight resonates, banging painfully against the inside of your ribcage. It takes you a moment to recognize the sentiment, affection. It had been a while since you felt anything more than lust and detachment.  Her eyes slip shut, you wonder if the surprise is showing on your face.

“What’s your name?” She’s panting, sticking more to the wall from her sweat than actually standing. She doesn’t open her eyes as she answers,

“Emma.” Emma. You roll the name around in your mouth. Finding it befitting of such brightness in such a hard shell. It’s time to go, but there’s something about this one. About the way she burns, the way she tastes, about the exciting edge in her gaze. Something about her makes you want to linger, but that’s precisely why you cannot. You press your lips to her cheek, life’s no fairy tale.

You’re gone before her eyes open once more.


End file.
